


Tastes Like Citrus

by reinadefuego



Category: Millennium Trilogy - Stieg Larsson
Genre: Community: femslashficlets, Drabble, F/F, Femslash, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 16:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19949131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reinadefuego/pseuds/reinadefuego
Summary: They first met at the Gay Pride Festival. Miriam looked like a lemon, and Lisbeth was drunk.Written for prompt 7 of the sappho prompt challenge at femslashficlets.





	Tastes Like Citrus

Mimmi blinked, taking in the drunk woman in front of her. Her tight plastic lemon dress showed more than it concealed, and right now she didn't mind.

"Hello," Wu said cautiously as Lisbeth shifted her weight to one foot.

Frankly the dress looked stupid, but the woman in it less so. Salander steadied herself before she smiled. It was a side effect of just how much beer she'd consumed at the Gay Pride Festival. She gave a single nod, allowing her eyes to take in the walking lemon. "I'm Lisbeth."

"Miriam."

"Would you like a drink?"

"Sure."

"You look ridiculous."

Lisbeth was the first person to comment on the ridiculousness of her dress. Everyone else paid her nothing but compliments. Wu liked that. Even _she_ disliked the dress, but it was better than looking plain. "I know."

Lisbeth stepped back into the beer tent and went back to her table in the corner. "Are you a lesbian, Miriam?"

"Yes. Are you trying to pick me up?"

"Are you single?"

She laughed, shaking her head and walking around the table. It was well after seven, most of the attendees had gone to find themselves dinner, and more. Miriam leaned down, kissed her on the lips then pulled Lisbeth up off the chair. Why not, she told herself, it would be one enjoyable night with a random stranger. An attractive random stranger with a short mohawk and tight cargo pants. In so many words, an entropic chaos factor. "You're the one I want."


End file.
